Right, last night. I was in a house I didn't recognise, basically fleeing from a group of people as part of a game show. The concept was that one person (me) was on the run, a small group of people were tasked with rescuing me, a larger group were tasked with capturing me. A guy called Mike (not Mike Brown, might've been Mike from Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul) comes through the front door, explains he's part of the extraction group and we have therefore won (I only win if the rescue group gets to me first). He then goes to make a cup of tea when the capture group arrives, led by Matt Morrison and Heather Badcock. I take great delight in explaining to them that they've lost when Mike reappears, causing the entire capture group to immediately blame Aidan Linge for their failure, while some of them give Matty Artell (who was coordinating the rescue) credit for our win. I then wake up and write down notes of the dream, which yet again turns out to be another sodding dream, so this is written down entirely from memory.

Also, my idea would make an awesome game show. Anyone got any contact details for Granada or anyone like that?

Right, so last night I find myself zipping back and forth across the Lincolnshire countryside in trains (it's always trains with me for some reason). I'm alternately giving Dan McColm and Dylan Taylor lessons on how to drive a train, which eventually leads to us driving the train to a large room underneath a railway bridge, which as luck would have it, is the secret FOCAL headquarters. Jen is there, in charge of everyone (which at the very least includes Mark Murray, Zarte and Zubair) and she orders me to start folding magazines and stuffing envelopes. I make a plot to nick a copy of the magazine for myself, but wake up before this plan comes to fruition.

Last night I found myself at a tournament in Peterborough, which I initially assumed was Scrabble but was being run by Zarte in a Bristol-style so god knows. I'm helping out as I did at .co.MK, and then the lunch break is announced, so I head through to the lunch area, which is the crappiest supermarket ever. It's about the size of the playing room at the COLIN hangover, but with shelves around the side that barely have anything on it and about 8 checkouts down the middle, none of which are actually staffed, so everyone just nicks everything from the supermarket and heads back to the playing area.

At the playing area, I help Graeme Cole assemble a six foot tall lego tower, but for some reason, I end up on top of the tower. The inevitable happens, I fall and bang my head, and precisely no one gives a shit and wonders why I (with a gaping head wound) am not up at the front helping with the event. I end up getting directions back to Peterborough rail station (well, actually, I google for directions from Peterborough station to Lincoln station, which is odd as you'd have thought 'on the train' was the winning answer there) from my phone, which displays them as a fancy 3D hologram. I then wake up.

Not exactly Countdown related, but I had a dream where my new boss was revealed to be Jen Steadman, and decided everyday at 11 o'clock she was going to throw aubergines at me. I worry for my sanity at times.

Two recent ones. In one I'm playing Scrabble against Adam Dexter for one of Brian Cox's 'wonders of...' documentaries (no idea what this one was supposed to be about though). In the other one I'm trying to rent an apartment on the Lincoln waterfront from Dan McColm. There was a third but I've completely forgotten about that one, so never mind.

Last night's dream saw me going to record the Crystal Maze with a team comprised of Jono, Zubair, Usman Mirza and a ginger, freckled Michelle Nevitt. However, before I arrive at the studio, I get hopelessly lost in Birmingham New Street Station, causing me to miss the recording and my place to be taken by Richard Priest. When I eventually arrive at the studio Jono is almost wetting himself laughing at my misfortune.

Another one I had a while ago was non-Countdown related but still somewhat noteworthy. In it, I was naked apart from a miniature brown wheelie bin which I was holding to preserve my modesty, and I was being chased through the streets of Reading by Chris Tarrant in a Post Office van. If I suggest this to Jim'll Paint It, can I count on anyone to upvote (totally a word) it?

Me again. In the dream, I was playing a game of Minecraft, only for the next building I went into to suddenly turn into a pub, and the landlord is Tony Atkins. He asks me to fix the till, only to fix it himself by pulling down on what looks like the handle from a one-armed bandit that has a $100 bill attached to it. he then leads me upstairs to the various function rooms of the pub, asking me along the way why everyone's a dickhead. After walking past the first function room (which contains a pool table) we arrive at the second function room, where a co-event (which I think I identified as Co:Leeds) is taking place. A random guy called Marcus Ironheart (who looks a bit like a fat Dave Grohl) shows up and I introduce him to everyone, having apparently invited him to the co event. I introduce him to Lav and then to a guy whose name I know to be 'Marcus Erickson', which causes some awkwardness, especially as Zarte then approaches, pissing himself laughing, and yells 'PSYCH ERICKSON' at the top of his lungs. I then wake up.

Turns out I'm not done with October yet, though no Zubair sadly (lucky for him?).

I can't remember anything about the first part of the dream other than it was apparently amazing, but ended up with me getting told off by my manager for not making enough of an effort to integrate with my colleagues at work (I dream about work far too often). My response to this is to storm off and sulk by myself by sitting at the bottom of a switched-off escalator, at which point Deeks, Kirk and Robbo all show up and offer hugs. Matt Bayfield then runs around hugging everyone else but assures me he'll get round to me eventually, and before I know it, over 30 people have arrived. 'Aftermath' by Muse is playing in the background and everything's really a bit too sappy by this point, so I wake up.

So a couple of nights ago, in my dream, I was working with Jeff Clayton, Jen Steadman and Matt Morrison on a science project. We're in some kind of classroom but I get the impression we were sort of working on it under pain of violence. However, we get to choose what we want to, and I end up choosing one about genetics on the grounds that I know that ginger hair and blue eyes is a really rare combination due to the number of recessive genes that need to line up properly. Lo and behold, Ryan Taylor appears and confirms that all of his family have brown eyes. Also, Jeff won't stop stealing my pens (at least, that's what I typed on my notepad).

I then wake up, check through my COLIN photo albums and discover that Ryan does indeed have blue eyes.

So....last night's starts with me and a few friends in sixth form discovering a part of the school that has been greyed because it has been "discounted from consideration from all records and statistics etc", exactly like an excluded game an apterous would be. Bemused, we walk inside to this specific bit and discover a cryptic image in the wall. We spend a good while trying to figure out what it is before Rob Foster appeared and explained it's actually a comma made of coffee and relates to some young model who'd changed her skin colour and had died. This leads us to go to a memorial of her where we discover a small house built for her, where if you go there at the dead of night and look inside you can "see her face". Just before this in the dream I've also seen a youtube video of someone with people on a massive conveyor belt which consisted of just 50 pence and 1 pound coins and finished with them finding a Kew Gardens 50 pence - this transports me back to my school where I find the canteen counting up "daily takings" where I go off on a tangent about serial numbers and want to check all their coins - they agree that they enjoy doing this too. I then have a root around the area and discover a backpack addressed to GCHQ which has written on it that says something like "we've solved the murder of Mr and Mrs Smith". Of course I then look through the main pocket and discover it's absolutely filled to the brim with pre-decimal pennies and half pennies, which leads me to gripe about how they'd been kept in a bad climate which could ruin their numismatic value (not at all bothered by the apparent murder connected to this). I then get woken up.

Not a particularly funny dream, but I had a dream last week that I'd received an email from the Countdown Team saying that my application was declined and that I was told to "never contact them again". It woke me up immediately and I had to check my email in the spur of the moment to check if that had really happened or not .

Not a particularly funny dream, but I had a dream last week that I'd received an email from the Countdown Team saying that my application was declined and that I was told to "never contact them again". It woke me up immediately and I had to check my email in the spur of the moment to check if that had really happened or not .

And it turns out that sleeping in a hotel where a co-event was held is basically inviting ridiculous amounts of aptodreaming.

The most frustrating thing about dreams is that you can never remember the start of them (false sodding awakenings aside), either that or they always begin in medias res. So I have no idea why Graeme Cole was driving me around Lincoln in his taxi, but he was, and we were looking for a new bank for me in an emergency, eventually ending up at a derelict branch of Lloyds that had been turned into a Kwik Fit. One jump cut later, and we're at Adam Dexter's birthday party, where he's complaining bitterly about the standard of the badges that were made, despite the fact that he actually made them.

Dream number 2! Callum Todd and I are being held captive on a spaceship. We break out, overpower our captors, and Callum promptly logs onto my work computer to try to look for porn.

And a third dream from last night! I'm on a train that looks eerily like an old folk's home, and I'm told that my train ticket from Middlesbrough to Blackburn is invalid and I need to pay in the region of £370 to settle up the problem. The countdown connection is that sat next to me is a REALLY old (as in 'looks about 85') Zarte Siempre.

COLIN season is coming up so god only knows what my subconscious will regurgitate next.

Had one last night where me and a group of some others (possibly including quite a few apterites) were visiting Canterbury Cathedral. In a slight muddle up, Robin Mckay gets mistaken for the Archbishop of Canterbury and is ushered to the seat where the archbishop would sit, at the end of one of 2 rows of 5 bishops. Despite his protest that he isn't the right person, no one seems to believe him and the service starts. After a while Robin has somehow transformed into the recently retired curate of my church, who then takes the entire service (something to do with anointing people with oil - maybe a confirmation service). I then wake up.

Had one last night where I seemed to have eventually got around to applying and filming for Countdown. Now, I must have been suffering from amnesia or something because I somehow could not remember ever filming at all despite the fact 3 of my episodes had aired, with me scoring a record 154 in the first one (I also seemingly blanked 2 numbers rounds in my 3rd game which iirc were 100 50 25 10 9 8 @706 and 10, 5, 3, 9, 5, 10 @477) because clearly in my subconscious I'm quite a diminished numbers player. I'd scored 154, then one in the 120s and I think a "disappointing low" (as it was put) of 100 and odd. Several apterites were getting really excited that I might join the 1000 club and break the record, and wouldn't stop pestering me about whether I had managed it, but due to my seemingly very poor memory I didn't actually know myself. At this point I then get woken up, much to my annoyance as I now want to know if I actually did make it.

Had one last night where I seemed to have eventually got around to applying and filming for Countdown. Now, I must have been suffering from amnesia or something because I somehow could not remember ever filming at all despite the fact 3 of my episodes had aired, with me scoring a record 154 in the first one (I also seemingly blanked 2 numbers rounds in my 3rd game which iirc were 100 50 25 10 9 8 @706 and 10, 5, 3, 9, 5, 10 @477) because clearly in my subconscious I'm quite a diminished numbers player. I'd scored 154, then one in the 120s and I think a "disappointing low" (as it was put) of 100 and odd. Several apterites were getting really excited that I might join the 1000 club and break the record, and wouldn't stop pestering me about whether I had managed it, but due to my seemingly very poor memory I didn't actually know myself. At this point I then get woken up, much to my annoyance as I now want to know if I actually did make it.

I was in the audience for the end of your run. You got 1007. Congratulations.

Had one last night where I seemed to have eventually got around to applying and filming for Countdown. Now, I must have been suffering from amnesia or something because I somehow could not remember ever filming at all despite the fact 3 of my episodes had aired, with me scoring a record 154 in the first one (I also seemingly blanked 2 numbers rounds in my 3rd game which iirc were 100 50 25 10 9 8 @706 and 10, 5, 3, 9, 5, 10 @477) because clearly in my subconscious I'm quite a diminished numbers player. I'd scored 154, then one in the 120s and I think a "disappointing low" (as it was put) of 100 and odd. Several apterites were getting really excited that I might join the 1000 club and break the record, and wouldn't stop pestering me about whether I had managed it, but due to my seemingly very poor memory I didn't actually know myself. At this point I then get woken up, much to my annoyance as I now want to know if I actually did make it.

I was in the audience for the end of your run. You got 1007. Congratulations.

Last night I dreamt that I was chatting to Tim Down in an office and he was being verbally bullied by Thomas the Tank engine largely about his hairline. Tim was very upset and Thomas thought it was hilarious.

proud tiara owner and annoying publicity person who tells you to click links to the the FOCAL website.

Last night I dreamt that I was chatting to Tim Down in an office and he was being verbally bullied by Thomas the Tank engine largely about his hairline. Tim was very upset and Thomas thought it was hilarious.

Last night I dreamt that I was chatting to Tim Down in an office and he was being verbally bullied by Thomas the Tank engine largely about his hairline. Tim was very upset and Thomas thought it was hilarious.

Last night my subconscious decided I was a judge on the X Factor. For some reason, there were now only 2 judges, with my co-judge being a hybrid of Simon Cowell and an Apterite (I have a strong feeling it was Zarte). During the auditions, I kept singing along with the contestants on mic in a Mariah Carey*-ish showboating way, much to Zarte Cowell's fury. I insisted I was doing it because they were out of time with the backing track and I was showing them how to sing in time with it, but really, I was just jealous that I couldn't audition myself and was taking any excuse to show off my amazing singing voice. Zarte Cowell was not impressed, but I was a better singer than any of the auditionees, so deal with it Dream Zarte Cowell

Last night my subconscious decided I was a judge on the X Factor. For some reason, there were now only 2 judges, with my co-judge being a hybrid of Simon Cowell and an Apterite (I have a strong feeling it was Zarte). During the auditions, I kept singing along with the contestants on mic in a Mariah Carey*-ish showboating way, much to Zarte Cowell's fury. I insisted I was doing it because they were out of time with the backing track and I was showing them how to sing in time with it, but really, I was just jealous that I couldn't audition myself and was taking any excuse to show off my amazing singing voice. Zarte Cowell was not impressed, but I was a better singer than any of the auditionees, so deal with it Dream Zarte Cowell

Last night then, I find myself hosting a special bonus COLIN in December, apparently against my will for reasons that will become apparent in a bit. People are showing up, including Mark Tournoff and Jon Corby, and suddenly I discover that I'm completely unprepared for the event- no laptop, no conundrums, no prizes, no nothing, despite this apparently being my fourth December COLIN and 37 people having turned up. Just as I'm starting to panic, the fire alarm goes off and everyone starts leaving. It takes me a few seconds to realise that yes, I need to leave too, so I open up all the fire doors and head outside, making sure also that Zarte's got out alright (it's not stated but it's strongly implied the alarm went off because he was having a fag in the bogs) when the caretaker of a nearby shop comes over to ask me if her daughter can play at COLIN, having recently been very ill and all she can think about it appearing on game shows (why this is the case is never established).

I give this my blessing- the more the merrier, after all- and head back into the event only to discover that it's 11:45, COLIN is now overdue and I'm still woefully unprepared for it. I go through my opening spiel anyway only to get distracted when Ryan Taylor argues that the event is seven rounds, rather than six, as he's counting the final as well. This prompts me to wake up and start panicking that I'm unprepared for COLIN, when in fact, a lot of it is already in place- details can be found here. Expect more COLIN-themed dreams in the coming few weeks.

Just woke up from a nightmare in which I was on a school trip to Auschwitz, except it was in Germany. I wasn't allowed through the reception/security area because my polo shirt didn't have my birthday stamped on it. Then there was a jump cut and I was allowed to go in and explore an abandoned house within this giant inhabited block of holiday apartments, possibly on the outskirts of dream Auschwitz. But when I finally went outside having taken ages to check the plugs and taps were working in the house, I saw that the Nazis were clearing out the apartments and making the people in them walk towards the death camps.

So I ran around for a bit out of sight and then ended up back in the abandoned apartment, where it turns out my dad and brother were hiding. My mum didn't seem to have left the UK. I made a fortress out of green armchairs to hide/sleep behind but it didn't work; an Aryan Nazi woman (bearing a great resemblance to the air hostess in the episode of Crazy Ex Girlfriend I watched before going to bed) moved the chairs out the way and motioned that I should leave with my dad and brother.

We were walking towards the death camp when I heard a man shout "Thank God you're ok!". When I turned round, it was a man who looked a lot like Matt Morrison but was actually his brother, flanked by his wife. He calling to a distinctly chill Heather Badcock (who was walking just behind my family and had Indra with her), and running to catch them up so even before they all died, there was a nice family reunion. I was just bummed that my phone was nearly out of battery.

proud tiara owner and annoying publicity person who tells you to click links to the the FOCAL website.

Weird one a couple of nights ago. I was apparently living in London, and woke up one morning to find a woman and her two children on my doorstep, having got it into their head that I'd agreed to give them all a lift to school/work. Not being one for confrontation, I agree to take them in my car, and along the way, Dinos somehow materialises in the car as well. At this point, the woman reprograms the satnav to take us to the Countdown studio, and it very quickly spirals into a hostage situation with the woman negotiating with Damian for mine & Dinos's release. Thankfully, I then wake up.

Had one last night which involved me in a hospital bed in a hospital within a building at my school. Opposite me was what was made out to be Ian Birdman also in a hospital bed. There was some nurses attending to us, who at one point asked me if I was doing anything "MANTICORE minus E, or mythical being minus E" for valentine's day, which dream me translated as ROMANTIC. I made a comment to the effect of "From the state of me, no." which made everyone in the class that was going on in one of the rooms opposite burst out laughing. In the class was someone I know in real life from school. Not quite sure what my injury was or how I got it, but I believe it was something to do with my arm.

What an episode of The Chase that was last night. Just to recap in case anyone missed it - Rob Foster scored the theoretical maximum of 38 correct answers in his cash builder. He then took the higher offer, despite modestly stating that he gets about half of the questions right at home. The higher offer was about £250,000, although it was a weird amount like £250,002 or something. But because he'd got all his cash builder questions right, it put him so far up the track that he was already the wrong side of the chaser's marker before any questions were asked, meaning that he'd be out straight away! So Bradley had to manually move the markers around to a sensible position. Rob then went on to win this round, although no information seems to exist on what happened in the final chase, or what any of the other contestants (if indeed there were any) did.

Dreamt last night that Nick Hewer had decided to open up his own antiques shop. Me and my dad were the first (and only) customers and were making up our mind on whether to buy the solitary item in the shop: an antique teapot. Fairly certain Nick started becoming more and more overly friendly as we debated whether to buy it for what must have been several hours. Not sure whether we ever did as I woke up at this stage.

Also had one where me and Bradley Horrocks had decided to take the public bus matters in to our own hands and hijack some buses to learn how to drive them. We waited for them to arrive at Oldham bus station and then hijacked them as the drivers. We then seemingly drove to the middle of nowhere and stopped just short of a humongous drop. We then got out and started worrying what would happen if we were caught. The police arrived, we were taken to court and annoyingly, again, I didn't catch the conclusion.

Also had one where me and Bradley Horrocks had decided to take the public bus matters in to our own hands and hijack some buses to learn how to drive them. We waited for them to arrive at Oldham bus station and then hijacked them as the drivers. We then seemingly drove to the middle of nowhere and stopped just short of a humongous drop. We then got out and started worrying what would happen if we were caught. The police arrived, we were taken to court and annoyingly, again, I didn't catch the conclusion.

Also had one where me and Bradley Horrocks had decided to take the public bus matters in to our own hands and hijack some buses to learn how to drive them. We waited for them to arrive at Oldham bus station and then hijacked them as the drivers. We then seemingly drove to the middle of nowhere and stopped just short of a humongous drop. We then got out and started worrying what would happen if we were caught. The police arrived, we were taken to court and annoyingly, again, I didn't catch the conclusion.

Brief one last night which involved me playing apterous but being completely unable to spell my declarations correctly, as my fingers were seemingly typing the letters in a different order to what they were in my head.

A couple of recent ones. The first one saw me participate in some kind of illegal night street race around the streets of Lincoln (streets similar to this appropriately-named one). I crash out of the race and roll the car, but am able to quickly fix it by sticking Renault logos to the front and back, and I'm back in the race, but in last place. Eventually, I catch up, but the streets have been replaced by the pool table area from the Fox & Hounds, and a clutch of Countdowners are there (can't remember exactly who though) to shout at me as I block part of the space around the table with my car.

Last night's one saw me helping a family to move house, which involved chucking a chest of drawers onto a flatbed and holding it there while playing Bop-It (fyi: I've never before played Bop-It in my life). Eventually, I get the desk steady, and Dylan Taylor shows up in the family lawnmower, which just happens to be a warthog from the Halo videogame, complete with gun turret. Dylan asks if I want to ride shotgun, and I'm hardly going to turn down that offer, but just as we set off, my alarm goes off.

Had one last night where I was at a hotel-like fun place which seemed to contain just about every single thing you could possibly hope for. Part of it was a bank run entirely by apterites, which I went to to withdraw £20 of 50 pence coins to sort through. Fairly certain the person who served me was yet again Bradley Horrocks making an appearance.

I wish I could remember my dreams in detail, but I never do. It's frustrating because often I'll wake up after a really exciting dream and remember bits of it in great detail, but a couple of seconds later, it's gone. I might remember the gist of it, like certain concepts that were involved, but as for details, nothing.

One that has sort of stuck for a few days - but still with nothing that I could tell you as a real description - was one I had the other night (although it has no real connection to Countdown). Basically it seemed to involve time going in reverse, but nobody was aware of that when it was happening. I recall one bit where for some reason I had taken some sort of test and had the third highest score (out of about 200 other people). At that stage in the dream I couldn't understand how this had happened and nor could anyone else, as I was expected to either fail completely or get a really bad score. Whoever was in charge (a teacher, a lecturer, I forget which, it's all a bit vague now) was amazed but pleased (rather than being suspicious). But then later on in the dream this got resolved, it was actually because I'd seen or been aware of the answers before - in the future - and I was somehow going backwards in time. It got really complicated after that; I was in a house with a load of other people who had also figured out that time had gone awry, and we had to barricade all the doors because everyone else was trying to kill us because of...some stuff we were aware of from the future (which was the past).

And there was loads of other time-bending stuff but I can't remember it in any sort of detail, just a vague idea of it. I just remember that it all seemed to make perfect sense at the time, but then, dreams do that, don't they?

Had a brief one last night where Innis Carson had been allowed back on to Countdown (hey, maybe there's hope for James Robinson yet...). Think he struggled to a win against the champion, mainly due to losing some rounds due to lack of knowledge of new words. Then either I forgot what happens or woke up.

Had a brief one last night where Innis Carson had been allowed back on to Countdown (hey, maybe there's hope for James Robinson yet...). Think he struggled to a win against the champion, mainly due to losing some rounds due to lack of knowledge of new words. Then either I forgot what happens or woke up.

Okay, so last night was an odd one. I started out by playing a game of No Man's Sky, the interminably dull sandbox space game, eventually landing on a deserted planet populated by alien monsters. I fashion together a makeshift cosh out of spare wire and quickly run into a guy named Chris, who I work with. Together, we explore the abandoned streets of the world, eventually having to duck out of the way to avoid a Dalek threatening another resident of the world. At this point, me and Chris get separated, and I take refuge in a nearby building, only to discover that it's inhabited by other refugees. The discovery of a creeper from Minecraft standing on one of the tables causes a moment of panic, and I quickly fashion a weapon out of a nearby can of hairspray and a lit cigarette. This earns me some protests from the owner of the cigarette as he was smoking it at the time, but he eventually solves the problem by throwing it at the creeper. I decide to keep moving and escape out the window, climbing through houses until I get to the final one in the row, which is inhabited by Zarte Siempre and Lauren Hamer, who are busy watching Bob the Builder. After thanking them for showing up so that I could report the dream to this thread, I wake up.

Zarte seems to be haunting my dreams...in one last night I was playing a football match. On the opposite team in goal was Zarte and a man I know who seemed to alternate. By the time 90 minutes was up my team was losing 4-3, so I made the executive decision to have "a large amount of extra time" during which I scored us 2 more goals and ended the match at 5-4. I then made a secret pact with Zarte afterwards that they could have the "official win" (seemingly this was somewhat of a high level game) but me and my team could have the joy of "the actual win".